S/V Windom logs

Underwater Video!

2007-07-13T19:25:00.001-04:00

I know many of you have enjoyed our underwater photography. Well, you may not know that our camera also takes video, and over the past two trips, Britt has taken several underwater movies. I've put together the best bits of this footage along with a bit of appropriate music. I hope you find it entertaining!

Under the Sea - 7MB .wmv movie - please right-click and save.

The end of the road - for now

2007-06-23T14:40:00.001-04:00

Currently at: Beaufort, NC

After catching up on our sleep, we played tourist at Cape Lookout National Seashore, visiting the small museum in the old lighthouse-keeper's house and taking a long stroll on the beach. After the sugar-fine white sands of the Exumas, it was interesting to feel the coarse red sand of North Carolina's Outer Banks squishing between our toes. Back at the boat, we washed down the last of our fish with the last of our wine, with delicious dark chocolate for dessert: a celebratory meal for the end of our vacation.

Because even though we're not back home yet, the fun stuff is over. Right now we're in a slip at the Morehead - Beaufort Yacht Club, working from dawn to dusk to get Windom shipshape. Refinishing teak, polishing stainless steel, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. On Monday morning we'll motor a few miles up the ICW and get hauled out. Windom will be on the hard - and on the market.

As some of you know, we've been wrestling with this decision for quite some time. The problem is that although living aboard is cheap, maintaining both a house and a cruising boat is not, especially when we live so far from the boat. If we could get out for week-long trips here and there it would be different. But storing the boat for long periods just isn't good for it, and there's always a lot to do when recommissioning, and financially it just doesn't make sense for us. Also, there are a lot of other adventures we'd like to have and places we'd like to visit. (It's like that old line about having a hammer as your only tool: when all you have is a sailboat, all your vacation possibilities look like cruising!)

We're not done with sailing. We have friends in New Zealand who have invited us sailing with them - and we have to admit, that would be a lot easier than sailing back down to Panama and then across a big hunk of Pacific Ocean just to enjoy the cruising there. (Nothing goes to windward quite like a 747, as the saying goes.) We might do a little chartering. And there is a good chance that eventually, after doing other things for a while, we'll buy another boat and head out again into the blue.

And I'm not done with writing, either. As I mentioned before, I'll have a few articles in the September issue of Cruising World, so be sure to let the magazine know how much you love my writing so they'll hire me to do more stuff! (Just kidding. Hey, it never hurts to ask!) I'll try to write up our mountain adventures a little more frequently, and when we do any major adventure travel (and let me tell you, we're considering all sorts of wonderful stuff) I'll be writing it up as well - and trying to get it published. Keep an eye on the main page of this site for pointers.

We both want to thank you all for reading our stories, for emailing us encouragement when we've been down, for laughing with us at our follies, for cheering our successes. When cruising was still just a dream for us, we depended on the narratives of people who were out there already to fuel our imagination; when our plans started coming together, we relied on information and opinion from experienced cruisers to help us select equipment and choose destinations. This site - both the equipment information and diagrams, which Britt did most of, and the ongoing narrative by Ilana - is our way of giving back, of "paying it forward," of being part of the chain of cruisers past and future.

Those of you who we met out here, who told us, "Hey! We read your website!" - it always makes me happy to know that our adventures have helped spur you to turn your dream into reality. And for those of you who are still dreaming about going cruising...wanna buy a boat? :-)

Anchor down, safe and sound

2007-06-18T19:37:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Cape Lookout, NC

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position, and the satellite picture is probably pretty nifty for this one)

We spent the night sailing, dodging aircraft carriers and warships on night maneuvers in Onslow Bay, then finally motored in the last 20 or so miles in light wind, anchoring in the bay behind Cape Lookout at just past 1 p.m., 519 nautical miles from Vero Beach. (Because of helpful current, the paddlewheel impeller tripmeter read about 40 miles less than that!)

After lunch (mm, lunch!) we took a nap (mm, nap!) and now we are all alert and awake, just in time for...dinner and bedtime. But tomorrow we will explore the Cape Lookout National Seashore. It looks like a neat place; there are a dozen or so other boats anchored here, behind the thin hook of barrier island that forms Cape Lookout.

Home stretch

2007-06-18T00:26:00.000-04:00

Currently 10 miles east of Cape Fear, SC, underway to Beaufort, NC

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

As we'd hoped, we've been able to sail pretty much all day. On the other hand, we've been sailing mostly downwind. That sounds pretty good in theory, but the truth is that sailing downwind in open water is not an easy or comfortable point of sail. We've been slewing wildly as the waves overtake us and push Windom's stern around, rolling from side to side, rather than being held at a relatively constant heel as we are with wind more from the side.

It hasn't been actually miserable, though, with the exception of one stretch early this evening. As we headed for a safe channel through the Frying Pan Shoals off Cape Fear, something about the resonance of wave period, wave height, our course, and our sail configuration overwhelmed the autopilot. Bob lost control a few times, sending Windom off course, and we ended up hand-steering for an hour or so, until we could reasonably change course. Let me tell you, Nautilus machines have nothing on hand-steering
in a following sea for a shoulder and arm workout. Not to mention I've got a blister on my palm from gripping the wheel.

But it wasn't long until we saw the channel marks, first on radar and then visually. We "shot the goalposts" and turned north; now we're in the protection of the cape, and although we're still being shoved around it's a lot smoother than it's been all day. Bob's back on duty, Britt's trying to sleep, and I'm wedged into the nav station, driving on instruments.

As I said before, I like night watches, and usually I'm outside most of the time. Tonight, though, it's very humid, and with the wind behind us it feels cold - I've got a sweater on, and I still got chilly, so I'm below, warming up. Which reminds me of a funny story from earlier today.

I had just woken from a nap and went out into the cockpit, to see the lazarette lid open and Britt stretched down into it. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that he had smelled something burnt and suspected the ignition wires. "But I can't find any problems under here. Maybe it's in the wiring behind the panel. Come over here and see if you smell anything."

I bent over and sniffed, and started to laugh. "Yeah, I smell something. It's coffee. I think I must have spilled some last night when I was on watch." Once we realized what it was, Britt noticed that the jib sheet and furling line also had telltale brownish stains and a coffee smell. Oops. I tried to argue that caffeinating the rig makes it go faster, but I don't think he believed me.

Okay, I think I will caffeinate me now (and try not to spill any) - it's just after midnight, and I promised to let Britt sleep until we need to jibe to change course, about two hours from now at this speed. I'll catch up on my sleep when we get the anchor down later today.

Chasing the wind

2007-06-17T09:57:00.001-04:00

Currently 20 miles east of Cape Romain, SC, underway to Beaufort, NC

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

I wrote up an entry last night, but wasn't able to get into the system to post it. Good thing, because everything's changed since then!

Last night I wrote: The whole point of going offshore is so that we can sail. There's no wind out here now. We are a motorboat. If we're going to be a motorboat we might as well be a motorboat in the ICW, so we can actually sleep at night. So we've decided to bug out of this motoring gig and head away from the Gulf Stream in another 26 miles or so - we're just on the edge as it is - and enter the ICW at Winyah Bay, near Georgetown, SC. If all goes well we should be there by early afternoon
tomorrow.

But this morning around 4 am, the wind filled in, and it's a nice southwesterly breeze, pulling us along at a fine speed. When I crawled out of bed a few hours ago, we were 30 miles out of Winyah Bay; it didn't take much discussion for us to decide to turn more to the east and keep going. We're no longer in the Gulf Stream, but that's okay. If the winds hold (and I guess that is a big IF - the forecasts haven't exactly been reliable!) we should be at Cape Lookout tomorrow morning.

The big excitement last night happened around 2 am. Britt was sleeping and I had just gone below to check the radar. (I usually spend most of my night watches in the cockpit, because I like looking at the stars.) Then, through the constant loud drone of the motor, I more felt than heard a quiet ka-THUNK.

I raced out to the cockpit. Something was wrong. There was a change in the note of the usual noises, just at the edge of hearing. But it took me a minute or so to figure out what: the engine RPM was fine, the gauges read normal. Then I looked at our speed - we'd been going 6.5 knots, but now we were going 4.5.

I turned on the flashlight we keep in the cockpit and shone it on the stern of the boat, and instantly I saw the problem: somehow our propeller had snagged a length of sturdy braided rope as thick around as my wrist, maybe an old piece of fisherman's net. Immediately I put the engine in neutral and woke Britt.

Fortunately, we didn't have to go swimming. I held the light, and Britt yanked on the rope with our gaff hook, and after maybe five minutes of working it, the rope floated free. We put the motor gently in reverse, to spin off any bits that might have wrapped around the prop, and then back in forward, and everything seemed okay.

And yay, we aren't using it now, anyway. It's so lovely to be sailing again.

Not exactly the direct route

2007-06-16T10:26:00.000-04:00

Currently 65 miles east of the Florida/Georgia state line, underway to Beaufort NC

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

It's a good thing we're not being tracked real-time by a satellite, because our track winds around like a drunken snake. One weather forecast scared us into thinking we might get some strong northeast winds, headwinds that would also whip up the Gulf Stream, so we started angling off back toward the coast, ready to bail and head in. Then we got a few squalls - none of them actually on the boat, but we could see them on radar, and we zigged and zagged to avoid them.

Then another forecast implied that (as we'd originally expected) we'd be north of the area of northeast winds, and that the winds would be such that we could sail. Of course, when the winds are exasperatingly light (or from the wrong direction, either directly in front of us or directly behind) and we're motoring, either bashing into waves or wallowing in the swell, heading back to take the ICW seems more attractive. (Last night we did a lot of wallowing. Not easy to sleep when your bed rocks
like a cradle - I don't understand how babies manage!)

Anyway, now we are sailing back toward the Gulf Stream, trying to get current again. (And kicking ourselves for having left it!)

Another offshore jump

2007-06-15T20:37:00.000-04:00

Currently 70 miles east of Daytona, Florida, underway to Beaufort NC

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

No wind today in the ICW, so we had to motor to the Canaveral Barge Canal. Then we had a drawbridge, a lock, and a second drawbridge, so no sailing there; anyway, we were heading east into a light east wind, so there was no hope. Amusingly, as we passed through the second bridge, two sailboats passed through heading west, and we recognized one - Bluejacket, which we'd last seen in the Bay Islands of Honduras in early 2002. We chatted for a while on the radio with Geoff until he had to get ready
to lock through.

(The previous time we went through the barge canal, we had a crosswind that made it really hard to get over to the lock wall and tie up for lockage. We were messing around trying to bring both ends of the boat to the wall, and didn't notice the lock closing and the water level changing. To our embarrassment, by the time we were ready...the lock was finished! This time, everything went smoothly, although I'm sure it's only my paranoia telling me that the lock tender saw our boat and thought, "Geez,
not THEM again.")

We motored out onto a calm ocean. There's a big northeast swell, but it's slow and smooth, lifting us up and over rather than crashing into us. Just after 11:00 am an Atlas V rocket was launched from the space center, and that was cool to see, a corkscrew of white smoke spiraling up into blue sky.

Around 5 pm we picked up the edges of the Gulf Stream and started angling northeast, allowing us to sail. A close reach, with the wind forward of the starboard beam, but the wind's fairly light so it's not too bad. And hey, we're sailing again.

We've got just under 400 miles left to go to Beaufort (it's a lot shorter offshore than via the ICW, which winds around a lot and goes west first, to Georgia, before angling northeast), which should take us around two or three days if the weather holds and we can do it in one go. Bad weather may force us in early - we'll see. Cross your fingers for us to have perfect winds and no storms, please!

Northbound again

2007-06-14T20:32:00.000-04:00

Currently at: ICW between Melbourne (shout-out to Danielle :-) and Cocoa Beach, Florida

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

A short update, because I'm sleepy and ready to head to bed. We've been chased out of Vero by the no-see-ums; both of us are covered in itchy red spots and short on sleep, as our screens are not fine enough to keep them out, and the idea of closing all the hatches unbearable in the Florida heat. Our anchorage tonight is in a wide-open lagoon, far from the mangrove swamps that breed these tiny gnats. Whew.

We accomplished a lot while at Vero Beach. We socialized with the people on Fluke and with John on Asolare; did a heroic quantity of laundry; bought groceries (talk about timing - when we arrived in Florida, our vegetable supply was reduced to three small carrots, two onions, and one and a half heads of garlic); got an internet connection and caught up on our regular email.

Now we are aiming toward Beaufort, NC, about 750 miles north of Vero. Today we made 42 miles toward our goal, nearly all of it sailing on the Indian River; too bad we can't sail the entire ICW, because the combination of good wind and protected water made it a joy. Tomorrow, if the weather's favorable, we'll dodge outside at Port Canaveral and do as much offshore as we can in whatever window we get. If not, we'll keep trudging up the ICW until we can head out.

Another batch of mostly underwater photos

2007-06-13T18:42:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Vero Beach, Florida
(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

We've paid for high-speed internet for a few days, so I uploaded a bunch of photos from the northern end of the Exumas. Most are underwater photos, but here's one that isn't:

We had to repair a small tear in the jib, so on the first calm morning at Allen's Cay we dropped the sail and lugged the sewing machine up to the foredeck.

You can see them all (small versions with links to the Flickr page where you can see BIG versions) right here - or see all our photos.

We are currently being eaten alive by no-see-ums, and therefore are planning to leave as soon as we possibly can - maybe tomorrow morning - to start heading north. The weather won't permit us to go offshore yet, but maybe toward the weekend we can; we are headed for Beaufort, NC, and we could sure use the boost from the Gulf Stream.

Back in the US of A

2007-06-11T19:13:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Vero Beach, Florida

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

We came in the Fort Pierce inlet and temporarily anchored in front of the Coast Guard station, right in the inlet, to make a few phone calls. In the past, we had checked into the US by phone, but we had heard that because of increased security we might have to go somewhere and do it in person, and since Fort Pierce is an official port of entry, we figured it would be there.

One year we checked in at Beaufort and had to be seen in person, which wasn't bad since the officials were right there at the docks; they weren't thrilled about us being at anchor rather than at a slip, but they interviewed us and we filled out forms in a gazebo by the dinghy dock, which worked okay. Alas, after calling the Dept. of Homeland Security, giving them our details, and receiving a check-in number, they told us we had 24 hours to report to Customs and Immigration...at the AIRPORT!

This would be a pain in the butt. We'd have to either take a (pricy) slip, or find a place to leave a dinghy (not so easy in Florida - the Coast Guard station declined to give us permission to land) and call a taxi, not so cheap. Pretty annoying, considering it's a muni airport with C&I for general aviation; it seems to us that far more private yachts arrive from the Bahamas or Caribbean than private planes, and it's a big inconvenience for cruisers who don't have vehicles. It would make a lot
more sense to station officials near the port.

Fortunately, Asolare was in Vero Beach, 12 miles up the ICW (Intracoastal Waterway) and where we were planning on going anyway. Anne and Colby had flown back home to Idaho, but John was still there, and we'd been in touch by email and had each others' cell phone #s. So we called him, and it turns out he's still got his rental car.

That mission accomplished (or at least arranged), we set out for Vero Beach. After the Fort Pierce North drawbridge just past the inlet, the ICW follows a marked channel that has been dredged through a wide, very shallow tidal river. Britt turned to me and said, "How far do we go on this course?"

I looked at the GPS. "Five and a half miles. But pretty much the whole trip is in the same direction."

"We could sail, with this wind." A breeze had come up from the east; I gleefully agreed it was a great idea, so we put up the sails, killed the engine, and sailed all the way to Vero Beach. A delightful end to a pleasant passage.

206 miles from where we started out Sunday morning, we picked up a mooring at the Vero Beach municipal marina - an inexpensive place we've enjoyed before - and are now enjoying the sensation of NOT MOVING.

Florida ho

2007-06-11T12:05:00.000-04:00

Currently underway at: 27 deg 25.59'N, 80 deg 03.04W approaching Ft. Pierce, Florida

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

We're motoring again on a flat calm ocean, heading for the edge of the Gulf Stream. We've got about a knot and a quarter of current with us, although quite a bit of it's sweeping us north: our actual course over ground is nearly 25 degrees off our heading.

At the center of the GS, we were making 9.4 knots while motoring - that's about three knots of current, increasing our speed by about half! So we sailed for a while in the light winds, because even though we were only ghosting along, that extra 3 kts kept our speed respectable.

(I should say that Britt sailed in the light winds; I was asleep, enjoying the silence, although of course sailing isn't exactly silent, with the creak of the boom, the slap of the waves, the occasional flutter of sail. When I came out to join him, the wind was already starting to fade, and we ended up turning on the engine about half an hour later.)

The white skyscrapers of the Florida coast are already visible, twelve miles away. And as I write this, our course is abruptly changing all by itself, our northward sweep reduced to a deviation of under 10 degrees. We're surrounded by thick clumps of sargassum seaweed (which Britt is busily clearing from the fishing lines, set with barbless hooks for catch-and-release). Our speed over ground is approaching our speed over the water. Bye-bye, Gulf Stream. Another couple of hours, and we'll be
back in the US.

Your tax dollars at work

2007-06-11T03:15:00.000-04:00

Currently underway at: 26 deg 35.18'N, 79 deg 22.25W between Grand Bahama and Florida

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

Well, that was interesting. I was adjusting the sails - we've been sailing, YAY, since about 1:20 am, although we're not making great speed and will probably have to go back to motoring soon - and I noticed the nav lights of a ship behind us and to our starboard side. I went below to check the radar and AIS, and was a little perplexed, because the blips on my screens seemed like couldn't be the same ones. Then I heard on the VHF radio: "Vessel in our spotlight, this is the US Coast Guard, channel
16." I looked up into the cockpit...and yep, they were talking to us.

The guy was perfectly polite and had the Standard Coast Guard Voice that everybody who sails US waters is familiar with. (I think they must either clone their officers, or replace their voice boxes with a standard model, or something!) He asked for the spelling of the boat name, the document number, our names, where we'd come from, and where we were going. And of course, how many people on board and whether we are all US citizens.

Then he told me to stand by on 16 and he'd call if they needed anything else, and they stayed just behind us for another ten minutes. (I'm guessing they looked up our particulars in the database to verify our claimed identity.) I was a little worried they'd want to board us (hi! we're SAILING and it's the middle of the NIGHT, and my husband is asleep, please leave us alone!) but I can see their blip on the radar now, steadily motoring away from us. Yay for intelligent people who work for Homeland
Security who can figure out that terrorists are unlikely to be in a small sailboat.

Meanwhile, it's a beautiful starry night, and we're starting to feel the northward boost of the Gulf Stream. Good thing, because the wind is dying off, and I'm putting off turning the motor back on just because the silence is lovely. But I guess I'd better get to it - we've got 72 miles to go to the inlet, and another 15 or so to Vero Beach, our planned destination.

Evening report

2007-06-10T20:47:00.000-04:00

Currently underway at: 26 deg 19.75'N, 78 deg 44.32W south of Freeport, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

Around 7 pm we finally managed to land a mahi - in fact, we got two of them, but released one, as there's no way we could eat or save all that meat. Lots of ships around - cruise ships, container ships, tankers. We're still making like a motorboat in approximately zero knots of wind; kind of a bummer not to be sailing, but mmm, flat seas. (Also, it's probably good we're burning up this ancient fuel.)

We thought we'd get a sunset as the skies have been clearer than they have been in some time, but alas, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. We've got the nav lights on and are steaming west-northwest, making about 5.5 knots due to this persistent foul current we can't seem to shake. (At least we're up above five again! When our speed dropped to 4.5 knots we left our original courseline and started looking for better water.) We're counting on the Gulf Stream to make up what we lost, though, when
we get out past the Bahama Banks.

With these calm conditions, hopefully we'll be able to sleep despite the racket of the engine. Single-night overnights are always tough. I've got my mp3 player loaded with various music and an audiobook of one of the Hornblower books; if I get really bored I'll listen to the apocalyptic wacko shortwave stations.

Hee, this is fun, doing these updates. It's the first time I've been able to, as only a few months ago did we manage to figure out how to keep the SSB/ham radio, that I use for onboard email, from interfering with the autopilot. Now I will torture you all with mile-by-mile play-by-plays! Right now, outside...there's WATER! And now...water again! Isn't that exciting?

(Well, we thought so. In the middle of the afternoon, in a particularly glassy stretch of water, we turned off the motor, glided to as much of a halt as the current allowed, stripped, and jumped in. It was a kick swimming in the deep blue, with no points of reference other than the boat.)

Okay, back to watching the lights of Freeport and the bazillion ships. Yay for radar and AIS.

Fish ahoy!

2007-06-10T14:31:00.000-04:00

Currently underway at: 25 deg 59.53'N, 78 deg 21.52W in the Northwest Providence Channel, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

I just reeled in (what I think was) a white marlin! Britt was below, looking at the chart, so when I heard the drag go off and saw the fishing rod bend, I leapt to take my turn at it. We could see it leaping behind the boat, and it ran out quite a bit of line before I could even start getting it in.

It didn't fight too hard, though it gave a few more spectacular leaps before giving up and letting me pull it close to the boat. (We interrupt this narrative to reel in more fish. Both rods just went off - the one Britt reeled in had a tiny mahi, so small we threw it back, and mine had a plastic bag which after a valiant fight was eventually subdued and added to our trash collection. [And we interrupt THIS narrative to reel in yet another mahi, which violently objected to Britt's attempts to
gaff it, and managed to shake out the hook. So we are currently 0 for 3 as far as fish kept/fish caught, if you don't count the plastic bag.])

Britt took a few photos of the marlin (hopefully at least one will be good) and then we tackled the problem of releasing it. It was hooked in the lower lip; we gave it slack on the fishing line, and when it jumped it released the hook - but wound the steel leader around its bill! Britt took the rod and shook it, trying to unwind it, and after a few minutes, the fish gave a mighty shudder, slid out of the line, gave us a dirty look, and swam away.

Bye-bye Bahamas

2007-06-10T09:46:00.000-04:00

Currently underway at: 25 deg 49.54'N, 77 deg 52.05W near the Berry Islands, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

For the first time in nearly a month, Windom's playing motorboat; we've got a bare breath of wind from the south, blue skies with puffy white clouds that will probably turn into afternoon thunderstorms, and a nearly flat ocean. Of course we'd rather sail (and are holding out hope that the winds will fill in), but conditions are good for a comfortable crossing, so we're going for it. We've been underway since 7 am and expect to get into Fort Pierce, FL sometime Monday afternoon or evening.

I guess it's kind of ironic that we've finally got a perfect day for snorkeling just as we're headed out, but we're both psychologically ready to get back to the US; we've got a lot of work and possibly a lot of sailing ahead of us, as we need to figure out where on the coast we want to leave the boat, then get there and get things settled, and we're anxious to start. And even though it's trawler weather, it looks as though this is a window worthy of grabbing, because there's trouble brewing in
the NW Caribbean again and things may be dicey by midweek.

We had decent enough weather yesterday to explore the "Devil's Hoffman" area - the area between Devil's Cay and Hoffman Cay, which has lots of little islets and is one of the more popular spots in the Berry Islands. We dinghied to White Cay and scuffed our bare feet through the powdery sand, then climbed to the summit of the small bluff to get a good view of the area. After moving Windom to a smoother anchorage - the spot we'd dropped the hook turned out to be quite rolly in the strong winds -
we went out snorkeling, but the visibility was poor, no doubt because of the recent storms, and the structure wasn't anything special. However, we did see one big school of horse-eyed jacks, and one of them somehow ended up on the end of Britt's spear, so we have fish in the fridge again.

Right now we are motoring around the northeast curve of the Berry Islands, past Great Harbour Cay and Great Stirrup Cay. Soon we will "fall off" the near-shore shelf, into the deep water of the Northwest Providence Channel that runs between the Great Bahama Bank and Grand Bahama Island; we're hoping to find a helpful current there, and with luck we'll hook a mahi-mahi or even a tuna. (The horse-eyed jack is only big enough for two or three meals, after all!)

Sometime around midnight we'll officially leave the territorial waters of the Bahamas. But if you need a fix, keep an eye out for the September issue of Cruising World: it is going to be a special issue focusing on the Bahamas, and (I am exceedingly pleased to announce!) I'll have a couple of stories, and hopefully some pictures in it as well. And of course I'll continue to natter on here until we're back home in Colorado.

(no subject)

2007-06-08T21:16:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Devil's/Hoffman Cays, Berry Islands, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

Argh, can somebody please send us some nice, sunny weather? Despite the encouraging optimism of the forecaster two weeks ago, we have seen blue skies maybe twice so far in June. At least the frequent rain squalls wash our boat clean of the salt spray from sailing. Hey, silver lining, right?

From Ship Channel Cay we sailed to Rose Island, near enough to Nassau that we could see the pink towers of the Atlantis resort. This is an anchorage we've used before, convenient for a stop between the Exumas and the Berrys for people (like us) who don't want to go into Nassau. Despite the total overcast, the wind was a really nice 8-10 knots over our right shoulder, just perfect for a smooth and fast sail. The anchorage was a lot smoother than any we'd been in recently, and we slept well and
woke early the next day to hear the forecast.

Ten to twelve knots from the east, sounded perfect. The only fly in the ointment was the warning of isolated squalls between Nassau and the Berry Islands, with as much as 30-50 knots of wind. We were underway by 8:15, motored through the placid cut out to deep water, and put up the sails.

It was great sailing, at first. With the wind mostly behind us we scooted along on a comfortable broad reach, and a few patches of blue sky made us think that maybe today wouldn't suck, after all.

Then we hit a foul current, and it was like someone had stuck out a hand right in front of our bow. Our 6.8 knots of speed through the water slowed to 4.5 over ground. We hooked a big fish, probably a mahi-mahi - and it jumped off the line as soon as Britt started reeling it in. Worst of all, the clouds started multiplying, expanding and darkening, and soon it was clear that the "isolated squalls" covered the entire area between Nassau and the Berrys.

It actually wasn't that bad for most of the day. We watched the sky, both with our eyes and with radar, and the storms kept their distance. The windspeed increased and we reefed down the sails, but as we were going mostly downwind it wasn't too bumpy despite the building waves. But as we approached the islands, the storm began to gain on us, and the winds and seas increased a little more, covering Windom's deck (and us, occasionally!) with salt spray.

Our concern was the narrow entrance to the anchorage, between Devil's Cay on the left and a series of rocks on the right, new territory for us. This cut faces east, right into the wind, so we'd be surfing down the waves, which were likely to be especially big because the tide was falling, and therefore the current was opposing the wind. Going through a cut like this is scary, as it's harder to see that you're not getting into trouble and harder to correct if you are. (In fact, two years ago when
we'd entered the Rose Island cut - the pass we'd exited this morning - we'd had conditions like that, big downwind waves from a north swell and opposing current, more exciting than we liked!)

Complicating the situation was the fact that the islands form a lee shore: if it wasn't safe to go in, it would be upwind work to get out to deep water. Britt spotted a mast in the anchorage, and suggested I call that boat and ask for a report on the conditions in the cut. When I hailed them on VHF, they took a look and said, "Doesn't look bad, it's not breaking," so with the storm bearing down on us, we put the motor on and aimed for the cut.

And it turned out to be fine. The waves weren't as big as we'd feared, and we could see the reefs on both sides clearly through the water. We turned right and headed for the closest anchoring area and dropped the anchor just as the skies opened up and the rain began.

So far - knock on wood - it's been a relatively mild storm. A little rain to wash the boat, a little wind to turn the wind generator. The boat next to us apparently got hit by a nasty squall yesterday, in an open anchorage a few islands to the north; the winds switched from east to west and howled at 50 knots for several hours, and they had to start the engine and keep it on at low speed to counteract the pressure on the anchor, which if it gave way would run them up on the island they'd sheltered
behind. This place gives better protection, but still, I'd just as soon not see winds like that.

And you never know - maybe it will be sunny tomorrow.

Bottom time

2007-06-06T21:47:00.000-04:00

currently at: Ship Channel Cay, Exumas, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

We spend a lot of time in the water when we're cruising, and although most of it is snorkeling, we do carry SCUBA gear. Since we don't have a compressor, though, we're limited to a single dive each unless we can get airfills. We left Florida with both tanks full, and were a little bummed about the prospect of returning without using them, but we hadn't seen anything that inspired us to pull them out - until today.

It wasn't a particularly inspiring day, actually, as the promised sunshine is still nowhere in sight. Today's light winds barely rippled the water's surface, which reflected the gray and sullen sky like a sheet-metal mirror. Not so great for spotting coral heads, either for driving around in the big boat or snorkeling on from the dinghy, but we took what we could get and went snorkeling anyway.

The calm conditions meant an easy ride to the Dog Rocks, a bit more than two miles north of our anchorage. (The dinghy planes at 15-20 knots, so it's a relatively quick trip.) Our guidebook quotes an unnamed 1920s era surveyor as writing of these rocks that "they surve little purpose except to give the sea something to break over." Our interest in them is that they lie very close to the drop-off of Exuma Sound.

We dinghied out to the rocks and then to the east, looking for something interesting - and Britt spotted a dive mooring, so we tied up to it and jumped in. It was deep for snorkeling, of course - 30-50 feet on the shelf before it fell off into the deep blue - but we're pretty good free divers, so we swam around anyway, and what we saw convinced us to come back with our tanks: big schools of bar jacks, horse-eyed jacks, and yellowtail snappers, huge margates and groupers, two spotted eagle rays
(my favorite sea creature, and our first sighting this trip!) and one inquisitive shark.

We zipped back to the boat and got our gear together, which actually went amazingly smoothly considering we haven't used it in close to five years. (We had checked our regulators and BCs in Florida before we left, but it was certainly a relief to put batteries into the dive computers and see that yes, they work!) Then we zipped back to the Dog Rocks and spent an embarrassingly long time dinking around trying to find the darn mooring again. But finally we were tied on and suited up, and into the
water we went.

After following a deep canyon into a tunnel, we emerged over the drop-off just as two more spotted eagle rays swam languidly by. Two tiger groupers were either fighting or courting, and we followed them for a while. It was nice to relax and just hang out with the fish, which were a lot less skittish around us than usual, probably because we were moving more slowly. I also enjoyed seeing formations such as wire coral, which don't usually grow at our snorkeling depths. As we returned to the mooring
line, a big almaco jack came over to check us out. All in all, it was a great dive, a worthy use of our one tankful of air each.

Moving north, slowly

2007-06-05T21:40:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Ship Channel Cay, Exumas, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

After too many gray and rainy days at Allen's Cay we have finally moved to Ship Channel Cay, a whopping 7 miles away. The Allen's Cay anchorage is a popular spot; at least one other boat was always anchored there (and sometimes as many as five - but when we've been there in midwinter we've seen a dozen), and big powerboats came daily with boatloads of daytrippers to feed the iguanas and hang out for half an hour. Here, we are the only boat within sight.

It's kind of odd, because we're not that far off the beaten path. But the anchorage is just the lee of the rocky island, no beach and no protection from anything but easterlies. There are no iguanas (Allen's), no marina (Highborne), no ruins of famous drug-runners' hideaways (Norman's). Most importantly, the direct route from Nassau crosses over lots of shallow coral heads which must be dodged, while the routes from Nassau to the other northern Exuma cays named above are relatively hazard-free.

Which is why, I guess, when Britt set the anchor in the grassy bottom (alas, this cay ALSO lacks the lovely sand bottom the others have!) he saw lots of conch, which are increasingly rare in the Exumas. And when we snorkeled on the Exuma Sound side of the cay, we saw two HUGE GINORMOUS LOBSTERS - and one of them wasn't even hiding in his hole, but instead strutted across the bottom as if to dare predators, "Come and get me!" (Then again, full-grown lobsters have pretty much no predators other than
humans - and lobster season's closed right now.)

We plan to take advantage of the flat calm (finally!) weather and do some more snorkeling near these remote and uninhabited cays. Hopefully we will finally get some sunshine as well as we are SICK of gray skies. Then, when the wind fills in, we'll gear up to make the passage back to the US.

Steve butchers a coconut

2007-06-04T07:34:00.001-04:00

Steve butchers a coconut, originally uploaded by svwindom.

Steve learns the fine art of butchering a coconut. It's not all that easy - if you saw the movie Castaway, in which Tom Hanks gets mighty frustrated trying to figure it out, they had it about right! (Photo by John on Asolare)

Weather report

2007-06-02T07:15:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Allen's Cay, Exumas, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

As many of you probably already know, Tropical Storm Barry has formed in the Gulf of Mexico and is headed for and across Florida today. (Jeez, and hurricane season only started yesterday! If you're wondering why we're starting with B, it's because Subtropical Storm Andrea was named back in early May - that's the storm that made the big swells that kept us out of Flamingo Bay at Rum Cay for a few days.)

Because of Barry, we've got gray skies, strong winds, and squalls...so what's new? It's not supposed to get particularly bad here, although the Abacos are, in the words of the forecaster, "really miserable" with 30-40 knot winds and squalls. And Asolare has been balked in their attempt to cross over to Florida - they're sitting in Nassau waiting for the winds and seas to drop.

We're hanging tight at Allen's Cay, which is a collection of small islands near the northern end of the Exuma chain. (It probably looks really cool on the satellite image linked from the position URL, so go check it out!) We're protected from all directions, but the boat sits to the strong current rather than the wind. This means that the wind blows from our side rather than from the front. At the moment we are heeled a couple of degrees to port, even though we're at anchor!

Things should improve early next week, and we plan to take advantage of predicted light winds and sunny skies to snorkel the far northern Exumas - Ship Channel Cay and the Sail Rocks - where we've never been. As the wind slowly fills in, we'll head north for the Berry Islands, and then start working our way back to the US - hopefully, well before the next storm gets in our way.

Under sail on a windy day

2007-06-01T15:56:00.001-04:00

Under sail on a windy day, originally uploaded by svwindom.

John on Asolare took this photo of Windom, reefed way down and heeled way over, during our lumpy sail from Musha Cay to Big Major's.

Bodysurfing at Hawksbill Cay

2007-06-01T15:46:00.001-04:00

Bodysurfing at Hawksbill Cay, originally uploaded by svwindom.

On the windward side of Hawksbill Cay, Anne (Asolare) rides a wave in, nearly crashing into her son Colby.

Haitian sloop under sail

2007-05-30T21:48:00.001-04:00

Haitian sloop under sail, originally uploaded by svwindom.

Despite the strong and gusty winds, this Haitian sloop seemed to cut through the water effortlessly, with very little heel.

Close encounters of the shark kind

2007-05-30T21:30:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Highborne Cay, Exumas, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

Today we timed our snorkel to be around slack tide, so we could actually enjoy the nice reefs on the north side of Highborne Cay. I had my spear, and Britt his camera - unfortunately, he was on the opposite side of the reef from me and didn't see what happened, because it would have made an awesome picture.

I had crossed to one side, where a channel of deeper sand cut along the reef, and saw the distinctive shape of a shark cruising along the channel. Now, before you start hyperventilating on my account, I should say that we don't see sharks very often, and have only rarely had problems with them; for us, it's a nifty sighting when we do see one.

This one was a nurse shark, about seven feet long. Nurse sharks are easy to recognize by their small mouths and rounded snouts with little catfish-like barbels on them; the Spanish name for them is tiburon gato, "cat shark" (and in a Colombian aquarium the keepers petted them on the heads like cats while telling us this!) We rarely see them swimming during the day, as they are usually "sleeping" on the bottom under overhangs. They are scavengers, and in fact yesterday afternoon when Britt tossed
the scraps of fish carcass overboard, several small ones showed up to vacuum them up from under the boat. So generally, nurse sharks are the least scary type of shark out here - which is a good thing, because if any other type of shark had come this close...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Usually, when we see a shark, it ignores us and just continues on its sharky way. This shark, however, changed course and headed for me. So I used the tactic we usually use around curious sharks, which is to look straight at it and swim slowly towards it. Every time I've done this, the shark has veered off while still some distance away. This shark, though, just kept coming.

I swam toward the shark.

The shark swam toward me.

I held out my spear, point first. Not that I was going to spear the shark - I hadn't cocked it - but I figured, in the absence of a proverbial ten-foot pole, a five-foot spear would do. Hah, sharky, I thought. Swim into this!

The shark swam toward me.

Right up to the point of the spear, looking me in the eyes, and then...it ducked its head and slid under the spear - and under me. I could have grabbed it by the fin. (But I didn't, because I'm not stupid.) Instead I twisted around, because who wants to have a SHARK behind your back, and watched it as it kept going, swimming away.

And then I hyperventilated and thrashed my way over to Britt, who'd missed the whole thing. Darn.

A perfect day

2007-05-30T07:53:00.000-04:00

Currently at: Highborne Cay, Exumas, Bahamas

(see http://www.findu.com/cgi-bin/winlink.cgi?KG4EYP for latest position)

Finally, the weather gave us a break. The winds settled down enough that we had a fast yet comfortable sail to Highborne Cay, about 18 miles from Hawksbill, under blue skies with puffy white clouds. After lunch, we dropped the dinghy and headed out to go snorkeling.

I have to say it was a mixed experience. The water was beautifully clear, and the coral heads were vibrant and pretty, surrounded by all sorts of marine life. Angelfish and rock beauties made spots of bright color among the silver-gray snappers and jacks; of course, we were focused on the latter, because those are the ones we eat!

On the other hand, the current ripped through the area like a river, making it really difficult to conserve the necessary energy to sneak up and spear fish. (Not that this stopped Britt, who singlehandedly brought back enough meat for a big dinner with Asolare, and lunch the next day.) The coral heads nearest the edges of the cay had less current, but those were shallower and had fewer fish. (Strong current seems to make for the best coral and fish population, alas. Probably something to do with
the nutrient flow through the area.)

Britt, of course, couldn't get enough of finally being in clear, fish-ful water with a spear in his hand. In the strongest current, I took over driving the dink and dumped him out, letting him drift-dive across the coral and then picking him up downstream. We didn't get back to the boat until nearly 6 pm.

And then, we had showers, and drinks, and Anne, John, and Colby came over and we all had a big fish dinner, washed down with plenty of beer and wine - the perfect end to a great day.